Fireflies
by shadowkitty723
Summary: It was the twinkly-eyed man who first told her she was a sociopath. It was the red-eyed man who first told her she was insane. No one ever knew just how right they were. No one ever knew just how wrong. She spoke to the fireflies. And they lit the city ablaze.


She knew it was over the minute her mother opened the door.

She stood, looking down at them through her window, separated only by a thin pane of glass. There were seven of them, big and bulky, and she knew, without being told, that they were here for her, in case she tried to fight.

In case she ran. _Again_.

It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to be arrested, she reflected as she sat on the bed, waiting for her mother's call. It was just that she'd rather avoid it, if at all possible.

Of course, as usual, what she wanted was never even a factor in the equation.

"Emma?" It was her mother, as she had known it would be, her voice tentative and soft, so unlike her usual strong, warm tones. "Could you come down, please?"

Ah. So they had decided to tell her. And now, she was scared. As she should be.

Smart of them. Smart of _her_.

Not as smart as she was, of course, but smart enough.

So she came down, smirking viciously at the now cowering old woman. Her formerly blond hair had been turned back to her favorite bubblegum-pink and pulled back in her usual low pigtails, easily revealing the studs and loops protruding from every available spot on her ears. The woman gasped briefly in surprise, and she snorted before she could stop herself.

Honestly. Was this woman really stupid enough to be fooled by a few teeny little glamours?

"Surprise," she drawled, smirking as the woman gave an involuntary squeak of terror. "Turns out little Emma ain't so adorable and innocent after all, huh?"

"Nymphadora," the leader growled, drawing himself up impressively. She raised an eyebrow, completely disregarding the guns trained on her back.

"Heya, Vince," she shot back, smiling big, and he winced slightly. "Miss me?"

"Come with us now, and no one will have to be hurt," he promised, brown eyes wide, imploring. Pathetic.

"You think I give a shit either way?" she snorted, reaching for the thin chain around her neck. With a quick flick of her hand, the delicate silver cross melted into a pair of dog tags. Vince winced noticeably, and she smirked, dangling them teasingly in front of his eyes. "I remember," she warned. "You know I do."

"Tonks," one of the others implored. Greg, she remembered, gazing at her with unutterable sadness. "Please, don't do this."

She sighed loudly, dropping the chain and crossing her arms, meeting his gaze defiantly. "Fine," she sneered. "Take me to your leader, asshole. Give me my life back or throw me to the wolves, I don't care. In the end," she continued, smirking delightedly at the pain on their faces. "You betrayed me, just like you betrayed Draco." The men were silent now, but their eyes betrayed them, filled with bitterness and self-hatred. "Didn't you?" she finished, her voice echoing in the sudden silence.

Vince sighed heavily. "Come with us, Nymmy," he whispered. "Please." She stared at him, blue eyes wide, and began to laugh.

"Oh, Vince," she sighed. "You always _were_ far too determined for your own good." The muggle woman shrieked in terror, the agents hastening to draw their guns, but it was too late. Nymphadora Tonks, the last of the phoenixes, stood alone in the kitchen and watched them burn.

o~O~o

_She liked this room. Why she liked it so much, she couldn't say. It was a small room, white everything, from the walls to the floors to the outfits they made her wear, like so many other rooms in the facility. But for some reason, this one in particular was her favorite._

"_Nymphadora, do you know what a sociopath is?" It was that man again, the one with the long beard and kind smile and those creepy twinkly eyes. She hated those eyes. She didn't want to look at them. She looked away._

"_Nymphadora?" he pressed. Nymphadora. She hated that name. It was the name they gave her, like so much else, though she preferred it when they called her by her real name. Experiment 1348-B. There. That sounded nice, now, didn't it?_

"_She doesn't respond to that name, sir," one of the guards reported. His voice was crisp, attentive, and the twinkly-eyed man nodded in response._

"_1348-B?" he asked, and immediately, she whirled around, blue eyes locking attentively onto his face._

"_Yes, sir?" Sir. That was his name, or so she assumed. They were all named Sir, no pretty names like they gave the experiments. Hmm, she thought to herself. Next time, she should give them a new name, maybe change it up a bit. Sir 1452-A sounded nice, didn't it?_

"_Do you know what a sociopath is?" he questioned. She frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember. Something about killing, she was sure of it. The names always stuck best in her head when they were about killing._

"_Is it a type of killer, sir?" she questioned interestedly. He blinked in surprise, looking slightly disconcerted._

"_I suppose so," he said slowly. "It's someone who doesn't feel remorse."_

"_Oh," she remembered, giggling eagerly. "I guess I'm a sociopath, then! Am I?" she asked, tilting her head to the side innocently. The man snatched at his papers, suddenly looking flustered._

"_Well, yes," he muttered. "Yes, you are."_

"_Oh." She hesitated, bubblegum-pink brow furrowed in confusion. Then it was gone, a beaming smile spreading across her face, and she jumped up and down in her seat, clapping her hands delightedly. "Yay!"_

o~O~o

For a while, her life turned boring, full of men in suits and terrified-looking civilians. She gave her patented evil smirk to the crowds, watching as they trembled, and turned to flip off the suits, who looked pissed.

"Wa'sup, bitches!" she cheered, watching them glare in smug satisfaction. "I'm _back_!" From there, things just got worse.

"Nymphadora Tonks, how do you plead?" the man demanded. She rolled her eyes, forcing herself to reply to the hated name.

"I propose that we fly to America and turn the president into a box turtle," she rattled off immediately, beaming at the bemused populace. "All in favor?" Below, in his seat, her defense attorney groaned loudly, sinking down in his seat, and she giggled delightedly. All was going according to plan…though, admittedly, as said plan was concocted in about two minutes by a drunk bald guy in a princess costume, she wasn't too confident in how things were going to turn out.

The prosecution called her a psychopath. The jury bought it.

Her attorney tried to plead Imperious. Not even the idiots filling up most of the audience were stupid enough to buy that one.

Finally, as a last resort, her attorney called her to the stand. "Nymphadora," he began, and she sighed inwardly, resigning herself to lifelong imprisonment if it meant escaping that stupid name. "Why did you kill the agents sent to collect you?"

"What agents?" she said bluntly. The audience gaped at her in shock, the attorney looking suddenly delighted.

"You did not kill those agents?" he said urgently, fighting a smile as he waited for the affirmative. She shrugged, blue eyes wide.

"Nah, I didn't kill them," she said happily. "_They_ did, of course!" She clapped her hands, giggling cheerfully, and the man looked surprised.

"They? Who are 'they'?" he demanded. She rolled her eyes, slouching further in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"The fireflies, of course!" she said in a voice that implied that it should have been obvious. The attorney blinked in confusion and slight anger.

"Fireflies," he said flatly. She nodded happily, blue eyes wide and earnest.

"Yeah, you know, the little bugs that fly out of the fire?" she said innocently. The man groaned, turning away to bury his face in his arms. "Those fireflies," she continued, oblivious to the horrified stares. "I told them to do it…" She leaned forward, her cheerful smile suddenly turning predatory. "_So they did_."

o~O~o

_The fire swirled around her, leaping over her skin in a soft, warm caress. She giggled, enjoying the feeling, the power flowing through her veins alive in the blistering heat around her._

"_Nymph!" a voice called behind her, and she turned, the fire moving with her, swirling instinctively into a protective bubble of heat. The boy gasped in surprise, backing away, raising his hands placatingly. "It's just me, Nymph," he said calmly, and she gasped in astonishment. The fire dispersed immediately, and she ran forward, hugging him tightly._

"_Charlie!" she squealed. "Thank God you're ok, I thought no one else got out!" The boy laughed in reply, running a hand lazily through his soot-covered red hair._

"_So you did all this, huh?" He looked around at the ashy landscape, a hint of awed respect in his wide brown eyes. "Damn, you're good, Nymph."_

"_Indeed." Nymph turned, beaming in surprised delight as another girl stepped out of the shadows. She looked as unnaturally perfect as always, short blond hair falling in wisps around her miraculously ash-free face. "You've been practicing."_

"_Fleur," Charlie greeted, brown eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he gazed past the two girls. "Did you see anyone else?"_

"_None from our quadrant," Fleur reported. "The other sectors had more time to respond, some may have gotten out."_

"_We have to get out of here," Charlie said decisively. "We need somewhere to sleep, maybe a shower–"_

"_Don't forget about food," Fleur pointed out, and the other experiment nodded in agreement._

"_Yeah, and maybe some new clothes–"_

"_But what if we find other people?" Nymph cut in, blue eyes wide. "Other experiments, like us, who escaped the fire, I mean. A large group means better protection, and–"_

"_Other experiments?" Fleur shook her head, biting her lip nervously. "I don't know, if the other sectors are anything like ours–"_

"_She's right," Charlie pointed out. "Other experiments could be dangerous. We don't know what _they_ did to them, Nymph, the others could kill us if we're not careful." Nymph nodded reluctantly, kicking at the ashy dirt with one bare foot._

"_All right," she sighed. "If you say so."_

"_So we're in agreement, then," Fleur finished. "We see anyone else…"_

"_We kill on sight."_

o~O~o

They had taken everything, from her favorite purple tank top to her boring white socks. Gone was her Weird Sisters concert t-shirt, her favorite pair of ripped skinny jeans, and in their place, a baggy orange jumpsuit with an ID tag on the collar. But that wasn't all. She knew from experience that the house was gone, the woman either dead or mind-wiped, leaving no sign that she had ever existed at all. It was all gone, everything she…no, _Emma_, had ever had, ripped away and replaced with a lumpy cot in a tiny concrete cell.

What a wonderful world she lived in.

She sat there, alone in the darkness, staring at the tags lying limp in her hand. Somehow, they were still there, though she had no idea why. Still, she clung to them, smiling softly as she thought of her friends.

_Chuck, Flower, Minnie, King, Siri, Pad, Antler, Mouse, and Fang._

All gone. All dead.

Because of them.

But she knew the truth.

She _remembered_.

No one was safe.


End file.
